Sitting Around the Den One Day
by Soquilii
Summary: Dedicated to theshoegirl To keep my promise that I'd never kill Eliot again. But I can't promise not to rough him up.


'I love it when a plan comes together.' Nate sighed his contentment; Sophie nodded agreement.

'MM-_hmm_,' she said in her cultured London accent. 'This one was almost…relaxing.' She took a leisurely sip of wine.

It was a quiet afternoon at Leverage, Inc. The Mastermind and the Grifter were enjoying a few precious moments alone.

The Leverage team's most recent job - getting an innocent man sprung from death row; getting him a new trial with uncorrupted lawyers and a judge who actually looked at the case and not the color of his skin - had turned out well. It would take some time, but the man's wife and six children would one day see him coming home, after seven long years.

This was their first pro bono job, and had gone smoothly. Planned in exquisite detail, there had been no surprises, no hitches, no glitches, and nobody got hurt. Nate and Sophie had carried the load practically alone on this one - Eliot had been disappointed to miss an opportunity to pound someone, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Hardison's expertise, of course, had been invaluable albeit somewhat minimal, and Parker was pouting because there had been no buildings from which to leap and no safes to crack. She was presently upstairs taking a nap.

'Although, you know…' Sophie continued, 'I don't think I'd care to have _all_ of our jobs go so smoothly.'

'Yes…yes…this one lacked excitement…didn't utilize all of our talents…' Nate lifted his eyebrows professorially as he was wont to do in evaluating a job and its aftermath. 'There'll be others. _Wait for it_,' he teased.

She nodded appreciatively. 'Remember when we used to say _just one more job_?'

Nate grinned.

Sophie held her wine glass close to his and lightly tapped it in salute. Nate moved in for a light kiss. The kiss deepened; Nate and Sophie began to lose themselves in the moment. The next instant, they jerked apart, startled.

With fumes of gasoline, oil, and hot, sweaty coveralls, two smeared apparitions stirred the air in the once-peaceful room. Sophie wrinkled her nose in distaste.

'Dammit…_dammit_…**_dammit_**, Hardison! Didn't you see my fingers?! You don't use a torque wrench like that! And you damn near broke one of the glow plugs!'

'Hey…I was just doing what you _told_ me.'

'I didn't tell you to bust my fingers, Hardison!'

Nate, craning his neck around to observe them, broke in. 'You know…guys…you could have had that done by a qualified mechanic.'

'What am I, Nate?! An **_un_**qualified mechanic?!' Eliot flung open the refrigerator door, extracted a cold beer, held his bruised fingers to it, hit it on the counter to pop the lid off, guzzled half of it and wiped his mouth on his grimy sleeve, which left a track of oil across his face. 'It's not rocket science to change the oil and replace the plugs! Jeez…trying to teach this geek freak is like...ok…grrrr…,' he stuttered in frustration. 'Ok, here's a scenario: what if Lucille breaks down in the middle of nowhere? _Huh?_ Whatcha gonna do _then_? You know how long it takes roadside assistance to-?'

'Guys…' pacified Nate. Sophie sat silently, longing to return to the moment before.

Oblivious to Nate's efforts at arbitration, Eliot plowed on. '_Sure_, you can dial up the car's computer or whatever else it is you do, and make the electrical do everything but tapdance, but a simple oil change…'

'You comin' at _me_? Hey - I am a computer _master_…I can make a car do _anything I wa-_…'

_'__Some of the car isn't a computer, Hardison_!'

Regarding Eliot's black-smeared face, trying mightily not to laugh, Hardison verbally poked him with a cattle prod. 'There's a computer under the hood. Lessee _you_ do anything with _that_.'

Eliot growled in irritation, flinging his long, greasy hair back out of his eyes. He sloshed another swig of beer down his parched throat. '_That's_ not what I'm talkin' 'bout…_I'm_ talkin' 'bout stuff you need to know in case you're stuck out in the middle of Bumfuk, Egypt!'

'_Guys_…' Nate repeated. Stridently. Ineffectively.

Hardison, goaded, extracted an orange soda from the fridge, slamming the door shut. 'You know what…you know…Eliot…I think I be doing my _own maintenance on Lucille after all_…by takin' her to the _shop_!'

'Fine! Your money, not mine!'

'Awright! That is _awright_, 'cause I got _plenty_!'

'**_Guys!_**' Nate broke in. Sophie rolled her eyes. The moment she and Nate had shared was…gone.

Eliot turned to address Nate, talking through gritted teeth. 'I was trying to teach him how to change the oil and plugs in that dumb van…'

'Don't you be _calling_ Lucille _dumb_… nu-_uh_! You want fightin' words? Man, them's it…' Hardison slammed his orange down on the counter and brought his fists up.

Eliot crouched and went into combat mode, knife-hands at the ready. They circled each other, growling menacingly.

'Who's fighting?' came a sleepy, high-pitched whine from the stairway. Parker sat down on a step, scratching her tousled head.

'Now…_now_ you _see_ what you did, _Al Jolson_? You done woke up Parker. And she needed her beauty sleep.'

Eliot glanced at his reflection in the aluminum toaster. He almost cracked a grin but subdued it, scowling. He relaxed his stance, snarled at Hardison and sat down to finish his beer. Hardison turned on the computer display, tipping his orange soda to his lips. Meanwhile, Parker slowly meandered down the stairs and flopped down on the couch opposite Nate and Sophie. She was almost instantly asleep, snoring softly.

Resigned, the Mastermind and the Grifter looked at each other. Without a word, they simultaneously set their glasses of wine down on the coffee table.

Happy adult time was over; the children were home.

THE END

References:

wiki/Hardison's_Vans

how_12171312_

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End file.
